Guiding us through tales that need to be told.

In nature's arms, let our spirit release. A world full of wonders, beyond compare. In nature's arms, let our spirit release. **The journey of life is a dream come true. ** In the vibrations of life, the true self shows. In nature's arms, let our spirit release. **In the compass of dreams, let our hearts burn! ** Alex Hawkins, Dreamer by Alex

To the whispering forests, the moon-kissed leaves, and the ancient stones—may our hidden gems continue to inspire our wonderland and weave our dream catchers. To those who dare to dream big, believe hard, and wonder more such as the Dreamweaver, the Seekers of Dreams, and those who have respect for Native Americans and their traditional beliefs. ** And to you, dear reader, who enjoys to chase the dreams,—may this journey leads your own hidden gems and lead you into Quinault Rainforest where our imaginations come alive. The Whispers of the Enchanted Forest ** In the heart of the ancient Quinault Rainforest, gloomy and lush forest weaves through emerald leaves, green mosses covered the ground, and dew-kissed petals, there exists a realm unseen by mortal eyes. Here, dreams take root, and magic dances upon the air. It is a place where time bends, and reality blurs—a sanctuary for seekers of forgotten truths. Talk with hands, a deaf Native American nymph man with eyes the color of emerald green and brown who walks the deep forest paths. His both hands, delicate yet strong, hold secrets etched in the lines of his dreams. As a Dreamweaver, he can feel the wind, hug the trees, and see the stars. But Talk with hands uses their hands to use sign language and write the tales with his blue dream feather quill; instead, he weaves stories through graceful gestures—the language of leaves and moonlight. But the forest knows more than his dreamcatchers. Chief Joseph and his Ancestors stir—the Guardians of Whispering rocks, little people, and stick Indians, and a thunderbird. Each entity guards a forgotten stories and tales waiting for a seeker to unravel the threads of destiny. Talk with hands' quest begins—to find and protect the ancient of blue dream scroll, the vibrations to hold the language of the great creator, itself. As he walks beyond and deeper into the enchanted valley into the enchanted forest kingdom, Talk with hands can feel his senses with the imaginations of dreams. The tall and ancient trees lean closer, their branches forming archways to other realms. The wind blows and breeze those stories, and the stones silence. forgotten stories weaving through Talk with hands and his journal stories , for he knows that his journey will unravel not only his stories, but also his shadow-walker - his two spirits lurks in the rustling leaves under the shade and unseen in the blue moon through which the reflection deep blue pacific ocean . **"A Seeker of Dreams, Talk with Hands" wants to share his story—a tale of wonder, courage, and darkness in his blue dreams. In between his dreams and writing his journals, he inspires on his red road with his eighth generation of young Chief Joesph, a broken heart. **

**Introduction **

In the Blue Dream realm where dreams come true, **A feather, unresisted, in sea blue fused with baby blue sparkles, ** comes down with grace, Before the Rainbow Warrior, it rests on my both hands. With honor and my smile, I take the seat. **Protectors of the land and sea, all spirits, ancestors along with the dreamers and seekers, are forever cherished in ** Mother Earth harmony with the Great Creator."

- Talk with Hands

The Art of Storytelling, Deaf Narratives

There he is, Alex L. Hawkins, 39, is a Deaf Seeker of Dreams. He feels a deep connection with Mother Earth and Quinault Rainforest, reflecting his Native American and Germanic roots. His life's work is storytelling, guided by his personal experiences recorded in his journals.

As a Gemini, known for communication, and born in the year of the Ox, symbolizing strength, Alex follows the Red Road—a Native American path of life. His writings share the wisdom he gains from nature and his conversations with animal spirits.

His Indian name, "Talk with Hands," shows his way of connecting with the world through sign language. His hands shape his reality and leave his mark on the earth.

Alex's search for love is a journey to his inner self, with his past experiences shaping his path. His writings, penned with his Blue Dream Feather Quill, are a fusion of his dual spirit and nature. They are tales of dreamers, celebrating the union of love and spirit.

Why I Write

I write because I long for laughter A friend who shares their world with me Who bares their soul without a filter Just as I have shown you mine for free But finding such a friend is rare It is like a game of hide and look for They hide behind a mask of care And never let me peek I want to know how to be kind How to treat others as they are But it is so hard to read their mind When they conceal their every scar Sometimes, I give more than I get I trust in give and take, you see But this belief is not well met And leaves me feeling trapped, not free Ambition drives me to succeed But it also makes me clash with some Resentment grows like a bad seed And makes me bitter, cold, and numb Through emotional intelligence I hope to bridge the gap between Myself and others, and dispense The walls that keep us from being seen. **About us: ** **Who we are **

**Let us imagine that we were born in the small cowboy town of Pendleton, Eastern Oregon, famous annually for its Rodeo Round-ups, nestled in a small valley out of the Blue Mountains. Even more, it resides right next to the Umatilla Indian Reservation. Everyone knows the famous Wildhorse Casino & Resort, which features a 10-story hotel, a bowling alley, a food court, a movie theater, a golf course, RV parks, the nearby Arrowhead gas station, and even a tribal museum. Yet, he was born in 1985 and it was not the same casino because in his time, it was small one-floor old small casino with RV parks and golf course. Included his tribal museum and Arrowhead gas station. Yep, over the years- it sure has expanded. Umatilla Indian Reservation has been successfully self-governed. ** Frankly, it may be the only excitement in that area. I must tell you why: it takes me 3 and a half hours to arrive in Portland, Oregon, 3 hours to Boise, Idaho, and 2 and a half hours to Spokane, Washington. That is why I mentioned the excitement. Now, imagine an unfortunate Deaf boy born into a dysfunctional family who did not know how to communicate with them. All he did most of the time was scream and stomp loudly until he got his chocolates. That was all he could do. They couldn’t handle him anymore, even when each family member took their turns. Until one day, his mother and he got into a really bad situation. When his mother looked into his eyes, her tears came out, recognizing her favorite great-grandfather’s soul in him and knowing she had to do something about it. So she finally hid and fled with him, behind his grandmother’s back. Once she found him a good family and home, his grandmother became really angry. That was why his mother never came home. May his mother rest in peace. Even though he didn’t know his father, his life began when he was only three years old and lived with the other family who raised him and were members of the Latter-Day Saints church (Mormons) until he became independent after his high school graduation. He developed good communication skills since he had an older sister who was Deaf too. His mom used to teach all his other four sisters sign language first when they were only babies until they learned to talk. So imagine how lucky he was to have communication access throughout his childhood. For example, the family was willing to interpret for him in church and events while he had an ASL interpreter in school full-time. Truly, he had a good childhood, which his family did not have the opportunity to experience. He is forever grateful for that. He played all sports throughout his school years, got involved with some clubs, did service work with the youth program at his old church, attended Deaf camp in summers, worked at his family’s nonprofit business, and many other activities. He was hardworking and had good work ethics. He graduated from high school like most students did, attending a public school instead of the Oregon School for the Deaf (OSD) in Salem, Oregon. His mother wanted him to have a good education, which was fortunate. He was a spoiled brat, for example, when he moved to his freshman year and lost friends from middle school, which was normal. Throughout his freshman year, he was not happy, so the school district and he had a meeting. Furthermore, the Hermiston High School principal approved providing ASL (American Sign Language) classes for next two years in his sophomore year. Afterwards, he made a few good friends. Truthfully, he was always happy and smiled most of the time. He was very naive about the big world and bad people. All the people who knew him never approached him or even spoke to him about anything but only what he needed to know. Even his family and real family kept things from him, which kept him unaware of his own identity later in life. Nobody even told him how they felt and how much they knew about his life more than he did because everyone basically wanted the best for him, especially since he was a genius who was mischievous and had a tendency to have bad attitudes if things did not go his way. He was really handsome and charming enough that people could not resist his smile and beautiful eyes. His energetic personality made everyone love him. Mischievous and funny, he managed to keep himself in his ways so people never knew what he did or did something he was not supposed to do. He tended to be in his room most of the time when he was home with his family. He never liked his family’s conversations about negative things they talked about their friends, family, etc. Yet, fortunately, his Deaf sister kept him company when she visited home from college. He had a smart mouth, I mean, really smart mouth. He could make his mom and sisters cry if he was really hurt or angry. He even laughed when he bent down while his mother tried to slap but missed. He refused to listen to his sisters if he was not in the mood, only until Mom said something. His favorite mottos were, “Why?” and “Because Mom said so!” when people asked him questions. Rather than answering them, he wanted answers first. Irony. Deeper in his later childhood story, people should’ve never hidden things from him because he never learned the hard way and dealt with it emotionally while under his parents’ supervision, rather than finding out later in his adult world. A few years after his graduation, he found out the truth about his mother who raised him and kept his real family, his heritage, and addiction a secret because she only wanted the best for him. He discovered it through finding his file in his mother’s office. He never knew he had a file and asked his mother why she did not tell him. Of course, his mother denied it. He became a different person, sadly, because he never knew the betrayal or felt lied to, especially by the family who raised him. It was wrong to do. There was a really long hard journey that awaited him, unknown and uncertain for a long time until pretty much recently this year. Starting with his first few heartbreak starting with this right after his graduation, he moved out. A few weeks later, his parents drove him with his stuff to Utah, where he got accepted for his X-ray technician major at Utah Valley State College in Orem, Utah. He got his first apartment in the same building area where his Deaf sister lived, just across the swimming pool from his apartment. One thing we must be aware of is that the Deaf and Mormon communities surrounded him, which was all new to his world. Imagine, he attended the Deaf Ward church nearby only once, and never again. His Deaf sister later found out, since they went to the same church, and then confronted him in his own apartment. Yep, he was gay. He had a friend and a new boyfriend who spent time with him. They were as surprised as he was and waited until he returned after talking with her. Unimaginably, the next day, his sister dared to tell their mother and then the whole family. He found out after arriving at his friend’s home and using her computer to check his emails and talk to his mother. This was before he bought his first cell phone, ever! It was the first Sidekick phone from T-Mobile. Unfortunately, his mother was upset and told him. He was really broken because he wanted to tell her himself, rather than having his sister tell her. He thought he could trust his sister but did not understand the betrayal yet. Therefore, he lost his whole family and his Deaf sister as his support. He got kicked out of his apartment because of religious reasons, as being gay was not allowed based on their religious property. Even worse, he found out that he had to spend $4000 for his out-of-state tuition after a meeting with a Vocational Rehabilitation counselor who made mistakes and apologized to him. He didn’t understand there were other options. **There he was, all alone and heartbroken. His first ex-boyfriend who asked him to marry him at the waterfront Vancouver B.C. and then cheated on him in his face- it was how he first smoked his seventeenth cigarettes that he demanded from his friends who smoked, then slept after. ** **So afterwards , his ex-boyfriend and friends who was from Seattle in Washington invited him to go along with them to fly back there. Basically, he moved. He left his home life and faced a bigger, harsh world. His life story had began. ** **For example, when he departed from the airport and went in his friend car to ride and went to Seattle downtown on a nice sunny afternoon on that day. He sat in the back of the car and rolled down the window just to smell all scents because he had never smelled anything like that with thousands and thousands more trees than anywhere he had been. ** Later that night, he walked on Broadway Ave in Capitol Hill. It was full of gay and lesbian people, including various groups like punk, gothic, satanist, homelessness, and rude people that he was really amazed by and felt lost in the darker world. From there, his life changed forever, and he made many bad choices that made him really strong and developed addictive behaviors over the years. Before I continue the story, we must be aware of him that he denied his addiction until he became 27 years old, and lost everything he had in his life, after with his successful life in Portland life. We are Two-Spirits, honored to fly high and soar with the Golden Eagle, our directional totem. Through his Elemental totem, Butterfly which transformed his another spirit - ‘Talk with Hands' - a name given by some Elder man, we embrace our sacred gift within the bloodline we carry, a lineage that traces back to Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce. With his stone totem that has untold story through his eighth family generations, we remain to stand honor with his legacy of leadership, resilience, and profound connection to the land courses through their veins, sharing his legend, and guiding by their spirits on his Red Road. It is a heritage of strength and wisdom, a testament to the enduring bond between their ancestors and Mother Earth. Those were inspirations based on his little Earth Medicine, Deer book. “Little Earth Medicine Library: Brown Bear”by Kenneth Meadows1:

** ◦ This book is part of The Little Library of Earth Medicine series. It explores personality profiles based on birthdates and the Native American Medicine Wheel. Each volume in the series relates to a different birth time, offering spiritual guideposts, appropriate trees, animals, and colors.**

With his real father, he remains to be unknown. One day, he took his DNA test through Ancestor online and found out that he has Native American blood and some Germanic European blood from his real father, with no name. **First, He used to attend the alcohol and drugs treatment full-time based on his court orders because, yep, he broke two laws which were DUI and Assault 4th in 2008 and 2009. In his long run, he graduated from both school and treatment for 2 and half years, while he was supposed for only 6 months with his court’s order. It was because of his stubbornness, smoking weed. He loved to smoke weed, rather than staying sober. ** **Yet, he managed to go school for full time, including the AA meetings. Was he clever, he graduated from both college and alcohol and drugs treatment in the same month. After that, he went on his own and, even today, he has not broken any laws since. ** **He managed to make it through Clark College for three years with his Culinary Arts program at Clark College in Vancouver, WA in January 2008 and he graduated in June, 2011. His first career was with Holiday Inn Portland Airport in Portland, Oregon and worked in the department of banquet/buffet preparations, AM Line Cook, and made sauces and soups daily for three and half years. He received his employee award for the best breakfast gravy, and once worked with Chef alone for the VIP- which went successful. ** While he lost his families and went difficult times in his past, he managed to make a lot of random friends and the Deaf community from all northwest states knew him. He was very well-liked and well-known as in good reputation. He did volunteer for cooking breakfast at Deaf World Timberlake camp in Oregon- as sous chef for one week with 500+ Deaf campers. The other volunteer he did was cooking Christmas Dinner Party for his nonprofit organization- Northwest Rainbow Alliance of the Deaf at his home and hosted one night. Both were successful, indeed. **He used to be bar-hopper in downtown Portland bars and nightclubs. He also partied with many different deaf people. He just went along with everyone apparently. Unfortunately, in his complex love life, none were successful. Most out of 21 ex-boyfriends he had been cheated on and been busted them himself. He was real pothead and smoked cigarettes since he was 18 years old. He used to black out for 5 years, including driving. He was truly insane, yet he managed to control his own life by not getting the shot. He can empathize with his own self in this world and still alive today as watch his back everyday and forget about his own past life. Matter of fact, not just those. It had been like that since he was 18 years old and lived in downtown Seattle. He had unprotected sex with seven men in few months and had to go hospital to get shot and clean. He changed his clothes style in unusual and unexpected fashion all times to avoid being caught up with his true identity. He managed to keep himself busy and those people who loved him to comfort them and made them laugh, had good times. Those were day-less times when he had been in good company with others who would be happy to be with him while he kept all to himself and listened. Over years, he never expressed or shared his feelings which developed his shadow and addictive habits, especially his anger unknowingly. ** **Then one day, he quitted his career in June 2013 and disappeared from Portland and the Deaf community for good. ** **In those struggling years he went through for last 13 years, he truly impacted on all people who knew him, including his both families. He hurtled and lied to everyone, where he chose to leave his life with them and found what his life was all about. ** Later on, he became isolated for good eight years, until a few year ago. Nobody knew what he was doing, nobody even stopped by and visit, or for any holidays most of time he spent it alone. Yet, I must dare to share this, “How the hell he can still smile?” Someone once asked him. He responded, “Why the hell not?”

What if?

** His famous way of asking questions or engaging with people was through the lens of "what ifs." He possessed unique and highly imaginative qualities that made him an expert storyteller.** Growing up with five sisters and three additional half-sisters, each with different fathers, he stood out in a family devoid of brothers or knowledge of his biological father. But it wasn't merely family dynamics that intrigued him; he delved into deeper questions. At eleven years old, he grappled with a significant query: "What if I'm gay?" This secret remained locked within him until he graduated from high school, his imagination running wild as he envisioned how his family might react. Despite the uncertainty, he clung to the belief that nothing truly dire would befall him. Little did he know that his deaf sister would eventually reveal his truth. High school brought unexpected surprises. In his first year, he sat next to a girl who proved to be a bad influence. She surreptitiously shared answer sheets posted on the classroom wall, tempting him to cheat in his math class. Math—a subject he loathed—became even more challenging. As the semester drew to a close, the final test exposed his deception, drawing attention from the ESP program, his mother, and his ASL interpreter. Even the high school principal expressed concern about his education. During a lengthy meeting, they confronted him. Embarrassment washed over him as he faced the consequences of being caught for the first time. The verdict? He might have to repeat a fifth year of high school. His eyes widened, jaw dropping, he exclaimed, "Why?!" Their surprise mirrored his own, but they resolved to support him throughout his academic journey. Undeterred, he posed another question to the principal: "What if I improve? What if I pass all my classes and graduate on time?" Their response was clear: hard work and determination could make it possible. So, during his senior year, while his friends enjoyed half days based on their credit load, he took a full course load. And guess what? By his sophomore year, he achieved a 4.0 GPA. He defied expectations, graduating in his fourth year—a testament to resilience and imagination. **In his third year in seminary class (held outside the high school property), he once challenged the teacher: "Since you talk about happiness in heaven, will we be happy after we die?" ** **The puzzled teacher replied affirmatively. ** **Undeterred, he continued, "Okay, what if I want to eat mac and cheese again? Will I ever be able to enjoy it? What if I feel sad?" ** The teacher, slightly offended, tried to explain, but the whole class became distracted, chattering and bombarding the teacher with questions. He simply smiled, knowing the class was over, and left without a word. "I don't want to be late for my regular school class," he'd say. His assertiveness extended to family decisions as well; he insisted on having a say in his own punishments during family meetings. ** For instance, there was another day after his graduation few years later, when he returned home to visit his family briefly after his graduation a few years, coming from Portland . He can see that his mother felt uncomfortable around him because he was a different person, someone who did things that went against her religious beliefs. ** **This discomfort stemmed from her own upbringing as a young girl raised by an alcoholic mother. Interestingly, she had even convinced her mother to become Mormon before her mother's passing. ** **In their living room, they sat watching TV and then his mother waved her hands to get his attention. ** **He turned his head around to look at her, and signed, "What?" ** **She inquired, "When do you think you'll quit smoking cigarettes?" ** **He glanced at her and replied, "Why do you ask?" ** **She explained, "Well, your grandma Gay quit smoking cigarettes after she was conceived and returned to the church." ** **He smiled and signed, "Oh, really?" ** His mother confirmed this with a firm sign. He chuckled and then posed another question: "Mom, what if—I mean, what if I asked you to stop eating sugar and cookies for the rest of your life? If you can do that, then maybe I'll consider quitting smoking. Otherwise, don't ask me again." He stopped signing and then back to watch his tv. Naturally, his mother wasn't pleased, but she chose silence over engaging in an argument. She knew he had a sharp tongue and could outwit anyone in a debate. This ability extended beyond family matters; even at school and church, he had a knack for asking thought-provoking questions.

I’ve been called a daydreamer because I’m a Dreamer. Because of them, that dream has already come true. My mind is full of my dreams. My heart overflows with my fantasies. One time, my aunt got upset at me and shouted, “Alex, stop chasing your dream!” Embracing the label of a dream-chaser, I find inspiration and motivation in my dreams. I turn them into reality despite doubters. _ _

I’ve played ttrpg for more than 20 years. I love old fantasy books and new. I lose myself in rich characters in rich worlds full of magic and wonder.

I love making characters but have fallen in love with the stories they tell. My original idea was to write Farrago’s story. But recently though that perhaps it’s is Kyah that needs a story told. Kyah is the more important character. Perhaps the story of a Gypsy girl seeking to find a clean and noble life in the harsh world is more important than a nerd finding his own.

As I begin my tale of the development of "The Mirror Maiden," I am reminded of the journey of Aurora, the character at the center of the story. Her journey is one of self-discovery and transformation, one that reflects the themes and motifs that I sought to explore in this novel.

The process of writing this novel was an intricate one, a labor of love that was underpinned by a desire to explore the complexities of the human experience. Through Aurora's journey, I sought to capture the nuanced and sometimes conflicting emotions that we all feel at some point in our lives. This was not just any other story - this was the story of a lifetime, reflecting the very fabric of our own existence.

The development of the story of "The Mirror Maiden" was marked by a constant search for meaning and purpose. Each character, each twist, each turn, was carefully crafted to reflect something deeper about the world around us. I drew inspiration from the world of astrological charts, symbols and history of theatre, taking obscure and rare ideas, blending them with unique phrasing and styles of writing to create an experience that would captivate and connect with readers.

The process of writing this novel was a journey in its own right, a journey of exploration and discovery. From the initial spark of inspiration the first glimmers of a plot emerging, to the final touches of editing and refining, every step of the way was about discovering the deeper truths of life. There were moments of doubt, moments of frustration, and moments of clarity as the story came together over time.

But in the end, it was all worth it. As the final words of "The Mirror Maiden" were put into place, I knew that I had created something special - a novel that would challenge readers to think more deeply about the nature of our existence and the interconnectedness of all things.

And so it was, with a mixture of pride that I published "The Mirror Maiden," knowing that it would take its rightful place amongst the great works of fiction, furthering the long tradition of unique storytelling. I can only hope that my words will touch people in the same way that Aurora's journey touched me, and that they will emerge from the journey with a newfound appreciation for the mysteries and wonders of life.

The characters in this story came to me in a dream, actually. I am a crazy dreamer as my husband can attest. It seems most mornings I have the remnants of some nutty dream in my head when I wake, and sometimes I kind of enjoy the characters that my subconscious conjures up when I think I am sleeping.

Aunt Mattie was definitely one of those. She is the archetype of the independent, strong “woman of a certain age” who led an interesting and unconventional life before there was a trauma that sent her into solitary living in her small cottage in the middle of nowhere. She had pretty much turned into a hermit when she was contacted about her sister’s grandson who needed a place to stay. She starts out not terribly happy about taking on a twelve year old boy at her age, but since the poor kid had nowhere else to go she sighed and stepped up.

Brady is an enigma. He is only twelve, but having been raised by a couple of irresponsible alcoholics who made their living singing in honky took bars, he has been pretty much ignored his whole life. Like Topsy in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” he would say he “just growed”. He is a brilliant kid, self taught and curious, who learned to read when he was three and never stopped. Books were his lifeline and he devoured them, finding them in empty hotel rooms, walking away with them when he left the occasional actual school his mother would sign him up for, and seeking out libraries in the series of small towns where he found himself. His knowledge is somewhere at high school level despite his age, but he is a socially awkward pre-teen who never stayed in one place long enough to develop friendships except with the rare hotel staff who took an interest in him for some reason.

When he goes to live with Mattie, she immediately understands how bright he is and since he is a tall kid for his age, she signs him up for high school by lying about his actual age, and the only person she tells is Mr. Cavender who will be his math teacher, since Brady has told her he has taught himself calculus. Mr. Cavender, intrigued, becomes a mentor and father figure to Brady. Mimi is Cavender’s young daughter who, when the story opens, is only ten years old, two years younger than Brady, but they become good friends and grow into their teen years together. She will ultimately become much more to Brady and their relationship is where a lot of the conflict in the story arises, and how they work out all the obstacles that life gives them.

Sometimes I hate when people say I have a “way with words”. What about the times I don’t feel that way? When the words don’t just flow across the page, spilling scenes like watercolor on paper? I hate when I have a beautiful idea and it’s going so well and then it’s not. And then I see someone else’s stories and feel inferior, and I’m not good enough. For example as soon as I respond to a prompt, everyone else’s is longer and more creative somehow, even if I liked mine a moment beforehand. If I have a way with words, how come I can never think something of mine is good enough? Honestly, how can I even come up with something when everyone else’s is better? I LOVE the feeling of spiraling with one of my closest friends down a loophole for hours, coming up with insanely complex storylines and worlds more than anything. Spending hours laying in bed, watching my stories like a movie inside my head. So WHY, as soon as I feel like I’m accomplishing something and going somewhere, does my stupid internal critic (he’s become so prominent I named him Steve) have to go and push the brakes and pull up a wall of a lack of motivation? As soon as I’m determined to try and actually write this one this time, why can’t I see it through? Why can’t I just have ONE story I can write without struggling and just thoroughly enjoy the writing process again? Why do I have to compare it to others stories, why can’t I just be happy with what I have? Why aren’t I satisfied with the stories I come up with on my own, without having to rely on someone to gather me out of the stupid rut I’ve worked myself into?!

Why, oh why, can’t I have a way with words in a way I like?

The author sat at her desk, thinking about a popular zombie show that had a prison arc. “Why weren’t the prisoners more featured?” she mumbled. “They’d have made excellent main characters.”

I wrote the first flash based on a simple prompt of three adjectives. I focused on the word, “cold.” Instantly the moons of Saturnine came to mind. I’ve always been drawn to genre and the idea of a moon colony as a wild frontier was so verdant. I wanted to explore the ideas of sentient machines as a race and role of race in creating a new land. Extortion and bravery, technology and relationships, I enjoyed building this world. I grew to love this color bright world.

This story came to me in pandemic lockdown, different pieces of the idea falling into place one after another. The first part came to me while I was thinking about a clip from a live-play RPG show, in which the players were put in the scenario of having to make a significant sacrifice in order to break a curse - something that would make them miserable forever if they gave it up - but the one of the players managed to trick their way out of the situation so that no one needed to give up anything. My brain took the idea and ran with it - what if they hadn’t been able to take a third option? What if one character took on the burden of sacrifice in order to prevent the other characters from needing to suffer? What if the group chose suffering together - finding a way forward together - over suffering apart? I wrote out the scene, with new characters who came to be out of my needs for that scene - someone in need, someone sad and self-sacrificing, someone strong and loving, someone sweet and powerful, someone trying very hard to lead - and afterwards, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. My five heroes. What brought them to that point, and what would they do next to recover and move forward? After that, I kept putting different things into it that I felt strongly about and needed to express. My Judaism and desire for Jewish fantasy stories. My stress from the pandemic. My queerness and desire for positive portrayal of aromantic relationships. Soon enough, I was drawing a map to make sure the journey made sense… and in November 2020, I hammered out the first 60,000 words of the first draft, and kept going from there.

My novel is the second volume of a trilogy so I need to get back to the very first image I had about the first one.

I saw a young girl, she couldn’t be more than 15 or 16 years old, long brown hair and a long white dress running away from a church at night. “Who is she?” I thought. “What is she running away from? Why was she even in the church?? I immediately thought this could be the spark for a horror story, my favourite genre. I just needed to find out the thing or the person she was running away from.

Now, you must have noticed from my name on the app that I’m a huge wolf lover. Surprisingly or not, the werewolf is my favourite fantastic creature. Et voilá! I know what the girl is running away from: a werewolf. Now I just need to put my thinking hat on and flesh out the story.

I wanted to stay away from typical werewolf stereotypes: bloodthirsty creatures that go on killing sprees every full moon. No, my werewolves will reason. They will talk too. They will have their loves and hates and pains and dilemmas. They won’t go back to their human shape either. Once a werewolf, always a werewolf. I also don’t want them to be horny beasts, excuse the term. I’m tired of too much sex in werewolf stories, even if their lust is uncontrollable during the full moon. I really want to create characters that people resonate with. Let’s face it. Vampires have Dracula and Lestat. Monsters have Frankenstein. But when you think of werewolves, what name pops into your mind? Maybe I’m too ambitious, but for me now werewolf means my main character, Luvinus.

Back to this prompt: my first volume has been published, now I have to continue the second. I see it a bit like this: the first volume is the introduction, the second is where all the action happens and the third (not a word written yet) is the conclusion.

On the second volume, Luvinus goes on a quest to find more about himself and his kind. His deceased alpha didn’t tell him much so after the first volume he has to go find why he is a human within a giant wolf body. I mixed a lot of real life events – France is super rich in werewolf folklore; ever heard of the Beast of Gévaudan? – with my own imagination and Norse myths. The best about this is that my imagination can go wild. Luvinus will find allies and enemies. Enemies that he thought were friends. Friends that he thought were enemies. He will be put to the test. Knowledge doesn’t come without a price. But ultimately he will know that he has a role to play in bringing peace between humans and werewolves. And while doing so will he let humanity prevail or is he doomed to give in to the beast dwelling within?

Don’t think that this has been a smooth process. I go from a super excited writing spree to months of no writing at all because suddenly I think the story is crap and won’t go anywhere. Or I am just so stuck I can’t tie any knots between the different events in the story. Sometimes I wish I could somehow get out of my own body and read my own story as if I was someone else. It’s difficult to spot loopholes when the story is in your mind.

But do you know what’s the best of this? I feel that my characters are my children and somehow I have to keep writing to give them a voice and tell their story. They deserve it.

Will you like it? Maybe. Maybe not. If there is something I’ve learned in life is that we cannot please everybody. But I also know that when one does something from the heart, it’s impossible to go wrong. And this trilogy, my friends, comes from my heart.